


Merry Christmas, Ya Filthy Animals

by dontmockmyawkwardness



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Gen, Holiday Shenanigans, Irondad, Tony Stark Lives, home alone au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21956836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontmockmyawkwardness/pseuds/dontmockmyawkwardness
Summary: There’s nothing like spending time with the family during the holidays. That is, until your family deserts you at home on a top-secret mission. And then some evil robbers attempt to break into your house! It’s a wholesome Avenger Christmas… without the Avengers.Aka the Home Alone IronDad AU that only one person asked for! Merry Christmas, blondsak!
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2019





	Merry Christmas, Ya Filthy Animals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blondsak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/gifts).



> This set after Endgame, but I selectively ignored canon. First off, Tony lives. However I'm going with the idea that he loses his right arm in the process. Second, Steve returns the stones but then returns to the present. He's not living in a world without the internet. And finally, Natasha is still dead. Unfortunately, her being present would not work for the plot.
> 
> This was written for the 2019 IronDad Fic Exchange based on the prompts by blondsak! Thank you for giving me ideas that sparked me to pick up the pen and write again for the first time in four years. I hope you enjoy!

Tony Stark slammed down on the breaks as soon as he felt the car starting to slide out from under him. Naturally, the car’s sliding increased. In the passenger seat, Peter’s grip on the “oh-shit” handle tightened, and through clenched teeth he asked, “You do know how to drive in the snow, right?”

 _Smartass_. “Of course I know how to drive in the snow, kid,” Tony snarked back, the car finally slowing down out of it’s skid.

“I mean, I know Happy knows how to drive in the snow, but I didn’t know you did!”

Tony shot Peter an exasperated look. “Seriously kid –“

“Keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Stark!”

“Don’t worry, we’re here.” Tony turned onto a small residential street. Each house was decorated in twinkling lights spun around the trees, loped over the bushes, and dangling along the frame of the house. Wreathes hung from each front door, and, to complete the Christmas-fairytale look, a blanket of soft snow laid upon the ground.

The small neighborhood in upstate New York was home to the Stark’s holiday home from Tony’s childhood. Growing up, his mother had insisted on traveling up dimly lit, backcountry roads to their small house nestled among other brick colonial houses and celebrating the holidays outside the hustle and bustle of the city. Though being Starks, the term “small” was really a misnomer. The large kitchen, separate living and family rooms, five bedrooms, four bathrooms, and large attic was always too much space for just the three Starks.

However it was perfect in size for an Avengers Holiday Weekend-Get-Together-Seriously-Let’s-Celebrate-Being-Alive-And-Relax-For-Once-And-Open-Presents-In-Peace-Please Party. (Trademark pending.)

Over the past year, the world has gone from mourning the loss of half the population to gaining every lost person back to trying to find some kind of normalcy in this post-Thanos world. For the Avengers, that meant mourning Natasha and all the other warriors who had died in that final fight with Thanos. For Tony, that meant learning to live with a prosthetic arm and making up for lost time with Peter. Tony figured the holidays were a perfect time to be thankful for his ragtag found family of Avengers and decided to invite them all up to his family’s old vacation house for a nice, _calm_ weekend of holiday cheer.

Pulling up in front of the picturesque house, calm was the last thing Tony figured he was about to get from this weekend. Already music was blasting, and he could see multiple people already throwing back some spiked eggnog through the windows.

Tony looked over to Peter, who had a bright smile splashed across his face. “Ready, kid?”

* * *

For Peter, Christmas had always consisted of just his aunt and uncle and a few presents under a small tree. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he would at a Christmas party with Iron Man and Captain America and Hawkeye and _ohmygod_ _that’s_ Dr. Banner. Peter’s pretty sure this is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to him.

Peter wandered from the kitchen to the living room, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands – “No you’re not spiking the kid’s drink, Sam!” – and laughed at Dr. Banner-Hulk trying to place delicate ornaments on the Christmas tree. A disgruntled Bucky Barnes was standing next to the tree, his metal arm wrapped in tinsel. He looked almost as happy as he had when Peter had wrapped him in his webbing.

_Ahh, good times._

Peter sat down on the couch. Around him, Scott, Rhodey, and Agent Hill were all playing a fast-paced card game, rapidly slamming down cards on top of each other. Suddenly, Rhodey slammed his hand down on top of the pile. “Eat shit, regular-sized-man!”

Scott grumbled out something definitely not fit for pleasant company, took a swig of eggnog, and began shuffling the deck of cards.

“Do you wanna play?” Agent Hill was turned, looking at Peter.

“I don’t think I know this game ma’am.” Peter stuttered out.

The adults around the table laughed. “First of all, subordinates call me ma’am. Avengers call me Maria,” she smiled. “And secondly, it’s called Egyptian Rat Screw. Easy to learn, fun to play.”

Peter inched forward on the couch. One game of cards couldn’t hurt. “Sure, I’m in.”

…

Tony pushed a mug of special hot coco into Steve’s waiting hand. Steve took a sniff of the hot coco, making sure it wasn’t spiked. He asked Tony, “No Pepper and Morgan?”

"Do you really think I want my five-year-old daughter around these hooligans?”

At that moment a large crack of a broken chair snapped through the commotion in the house. From the dining room they heard Scott call out an apology.

“I see your point,” Steve smiled. “You brought the kid, though?”

“Yeah, he deserved a little weekend away.” Tony took a sip. “Plus I don’t really feel like letting him out of my sight, you know?”

Steve cocked his head. “So you’ve been keeping an eye on him all night?”

“Of course I have,” Tony scoffed.

“Then what’s he doing right now?”

Tony turned to Steve. “I can’t believe you have the audacity to question my mentoring skills.”

Steve merely took a long drink from his mug and nodded his head to a point behind Tony. Tony turned around, his eyes scanning for the kid.

And he found him.

Playing beer pong.

Or maybe it was eggnog pong, but whatever drink was in the cup didn’t matter. Sam and Clint were facing off against Scott and Peter in a matchup that was clearly birds vs. insects. And judging from the raucous cheering coming from the bird-brains, the insects weren’t doing so hot.

Tony’s eyes narrowed. Even from far away, he could tell that something was wrong with his kid. Peter’s eyes briefly shut in a grimace, before he shook it off and lined up for his next shot. As he shot, a loud round of laughter rang out. Peter grimaced again and his shot went far left, bouncing around on the floor.

“Excuse me, Captain Underpants.” Tony made his way across the room. He put his mug down and slung his one arm around Peter’s shoulders. “You guys are encouraging a teenager to drink?” Tony joked.

“Actually,” Scott slurred. “I’m drinking for him.”

“And look how well that’s turning out,” Clint blurted.

Another shriek of laughter sounded, and Peter turned his face into the Tony’s chest. Tony sighed. He nudged Peter around and slowly started moving him into the foyer. “Come on, Underoos. Let’s get you someplace a little less frat house.”

The two of them moved up the stairs together. “I swear I didn’t drink anything,” Peter murmured.

“I know, kid.” Tony briefly removed his arm from Peter’s shoulders to open the door to the attic. Once open, he pulled Peter close to him and continued up the narrow stairs. “Your aunt would kill you if you did.”

Tony led them over to the queen bed. He tried easing Peter down onto the bed, but the clingy bastard pulled him down too. Peter rolled over onto his side and let out a content sigh. “Thanks for bringing me up here.”

“Any time, kid. Anytime.”

Peter smiled softly and closed his eyes. Tony snuggled down next to Peter. “Sleep tight, Peter,” he said. “Maybe in the morning, Santa will have come.” Tony leaned over and gently kissed Peter on the forehead. He closed his eyes, happy and peaceful.

* * *

Maybe it was because the wiring in the old house was faulty, and the signal didn’t travel up to the alarm in the attic.

Maybe it was because a storm was moving in fast, and the Avengers had to scramble to beat it out.

Maybe it was because no one was used to the young spider being a superhero.

Maybe it was all of the above and then some.

But Fury woke the Avengers in the middle of the night, a dangerous threat brewing in an isolated mountain bunker that needed all hands on deck to stop. And as the Avengers scrambled to rush out the house and save the world, Peter Parker and Tony Stark slept curled in the duvet covers of the bed in the attic, blissfully unaware of any imminent danger.

* * *

Warm breath tickled Peter’s nose. He wrinkled his nose, turning his face into the pillow, scrunching his eyes shut in an attempt to move from his current half-asleep state back into a full-asleep state.

But then a rustle sounded and another warm breath on his cheek confused Peter. Whenever he had a lazy morning in bed, it’s always the sound of May bustling about in the family room or the smell of burning pancakes that wakes him up. Not the sounds of little snores just inches away from his ears.

Peter blinked his eyes open. Lying next to him was Tony Stark, which was not who Peter expected. He wasn’t surprised, to be honest. Since returning from the dead, Peter had found that Mr. Stark had been surprisingly comforting. Granted hugging was now a bit harder to do, but often times, Peter found Mr. Stark lingering in the kitchen more after dinner or draping his legs over Peter’s when relaxing on the couch. Hair ruffles, beaming smiles, compliments – overall Mr. Stark was behaving downright affectionately.

 _How adorable,_ Peter thought.

That was until the man sucked in a giant snore.

Even without his enhanced hearing, Peter’s sure that that one snore could’ve woken him up from halfway across the state. In fact, he’s not entirely sure how that snore didn’t wake the entire house up.

Curious to see if anyone else’s sleep got _rudely_ interrupted by the snoring monster beside him, Peter gracefully tiptoed out of the bed and out the door. Peter yawned, carelessly wandering down the stairs from the third floor of the attic all the way to the kitchen. From the kitchen, Peter could see how lights on the tree shone softly over the couches in the living room. With the delicate, white morning light also illuminating the empty room, Peter could just revel in a moment of pure and gentle calm.

 _Wait._ Peter could have sworn that Clint had been assigned to sleeping on the couch for the night. But no one was on the couch. Peter scanned over the kitchen. _No coffee?_ That couldn’t be. Peter stepped closer to the empty coffee pot, but his eyes caught on small green lights blinking at him.

**12:00. 12:00. 12:00.**

_Oh fu-_ Peter scrambled out of the kitchen, past the empty couches in the living room, over the banister, and up the stairs. He slammed open the door to the master bedroom, hoping to see Steve or Bucky or Steve and Bucky lying in the bed. But the room was empty, the vanity lacking any metal arms or star-spangled shields, the bed made perfectly with the covers tucked into the corners just like how they do it in hotel rooms that Peter could never hope to duplicate.

Peter backed out of the room. He hurried to another door, another bedroom, but again found it empty. No luggage strewn across the floor and definitely no superhero teammates casually lounging about. In a fit of inspiration, Peter checked behind the shower curtains, but still nothing.

 _Okay, okay, don’t panic._ _Maybe everyone was in a big cuddle pile in the basement where they all fell asleep watching a nice Hallmark Christmas movie_ _and drinking hot coco with those little marshmallows, yes that’s definitely what happened._

Peter jumped down to the foyer. He pulled open the door to the basement and – _oh it’s dark down there._ Peter steeled himself and slowly started making his way down the stairs. The wooden stairs creaked with each step, surely waking up anybody who was sleeping. As he descended, Peter saw that instead of a perfectly manicured lower level, the basement was an organized sprawl of paint buckets, old boxes, exposed light bulbs, and one old furnace.

And no superheroes.

Peter made his way back the main foyer. “Oh my god. I made the Avengers disappear!”

* * *

When Tony made his way down to the kitchen, the last thing he expected to find was his mutant spider-kid walking on the ceiling, shoving cookie dough into his mouth. And since he hadn’t had any coffee yet, Tony blurted out the first thought that popped in his head, “What the fuck, Peter?”

“Oh hey Mr. Stark! You’re awake!”

“You’re on the ceiling.”

“Clearly. I figured since we’re home alone here it would be okay.”

“We’re home alone?” Tony questioned.

Peter climbed down from the ceiling. “Yeah, I checked the whole house and no one else is here. Just us.”

“What do you mean no one else is here? I invited the whole freaking Avengers specifically so they could be _here_!”

Peter walked around the island, licking the cookie dough off his fingers. “Well I woke up this morning and came downstairs and the clock on the microwave was blinking at me and thought ‘huh, that’s strange’ but then I realized I didn’t hear any snoring from the couch so I ran upstairs and checked all the bedrooms and there was no one in any of them and I checked in the basement because they might’ve been there but nope there was no one there either.” Peter put the cookie dough back in the fridge. “So I deduced that they left us home alone!”

“Why on earth would they leave us here alone?” Tony asked.

“Well, none of their suits or gear is here, so I think they’re out on a mission.”

“If they got called away on a mission, why aren’t you already in your suit, hanging on the back of the quinjet with your sticky little hands?”

“Well, obviously that was my first instinct, but…” Peter gestured to the window.

Tony walked over and pulled the curtain back. He was greeted with a wall of white snow, packed halfway up the window.

“Okay, so we are here, in my old family home, alone, snowed in, without any way to contact the Avengers?”

Peter nodded.

Tony sighed, his good hand coming to cover his face.

“Does this mean we’ll have to resort to cannibalism?”

Tony stared at Peter in disbelief. Surely his protégé was not this stupid. Surely he was not handing over his entire fortune and legacy to an idiot. “I need coffee,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“Well, I’m just saying we might be stuck here for days while they clear the roads, and who knows when everyone is gonna be back, and I have a fast metabolism, so I’m going to need to eat a lot, and I already finished Dr. Banner’s cookie dough so that’s not an option anymore –“

“Kid –“ Tony interrupted, “do you really think we weren’t going to bring enough food up here? We had to feed two super-soldiers, an over-excited spider, and giant, green man. We have enough food.” And booze, but Tony was not going to tell Peter that particular fact.

Peter joined Tony and sat down at the kitchen counter. “So what are we going to do then?”

Tony’s eyes twinkled. “I think have some old Christmas movies around here. What do you say to a popcorn and movie day?”

* * *

While Tony and Peter curled up on the couch, watching movies – “Wow, these are old movies, they’re all in black and white!” – a van sat parked at the end of the street.

“Do you think this is the right place?” the taller one asked.

“I’m sure of it,” the shorter one replied. He narrowed his eyes. “The missing decryption key is in one of these houses.”

“And once we find it, we will be able to crack the scientist’s files.” The taller one smiled.

The short one turned the van on and revved the engine. “And once we find it, HYDRA will be able to genetically create the deadliest human weapon.”

* * *

Peter and Mr. Stark had spent the entire day watching Christmas classics, eating treats intended for the Winter Solider, and even practicing Peter’s web-shooting aim by knocking Mr. Stark’s old toy figurines off a ledge and into the laundry shoot. And Peter was proud to say that his aim was still impeccable.

Eventually though, Mr. Stark started to doze off on the couch and Peter decided to let him rest. He tucked the blanket a little tighter around his mentor’s shoulders and wandered out of the living room. This was Mr. Stark’s house! Not his penthouse or his lake house, but his real suburban house! As Peter walked up the stairs he thought about how normal the whole house was. There weren’t any dangerous weapons lying about or top-secret government files strew over the coffee table. No robots or secret formulas not even a flying car! It reminded Peter more of Ned’s grandma’s house down in Jersey than what he thought a billionaire’s house was.

Peter found himself wandering from room to room upstairs, in search of something out of place, something that wasn’t so _normal_. Because if this was normal, then his small apartment in Queens was decidedly less-than-normal. And Peter didn’t want to think that all of his aunt’s hard work to provide for them was categorically subpar.

Peter walked into the master bedroom. The giant king bed did look like the perfect bed for jumping, but instead he drifted over the dresser. Ornate jewelry boxes sat on top of the gorgeous dark wood. Peter opened one of the boxes and found it contained a bunch of pearl necklaces. He opened another full of diamond earrings. He pulled on of the long, dangling earrings out and held it up to his ear. The light reflected off of the diamonds, and he smiled at himself in the mirror.

“Whatcha you doing up here, bambi?”

Peter jumped, dropping the earring to the floor. Mr. Stark stepped further into the bedroom, the blanket from downstairs still wrapped around his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Peter grabbed the earring. “No it’s okay. I ran out of web fluid,” he gestured to his web shooter, “so I was just looking around your house.”

“And you decided to try on my mother’s jewelry?” Tony laughed, coming over to stand by Peter at the dresser.

Peter laughed, “Just messing around, you know.”

“Well I don’t think diamond earrings are really your style, kid.” Tony ran his hand over to yet another box sitting on the dresser. “Why don’t you try one of these?” He opened the box, and pulled out a sleek, silver and gray watch.

Peter turned it over in his hands. The design was timeless, the band soft yet strong. The numbers on the face of the watch were a fainter silver, almost shimmering like moonlight. At a certain angle, the numbers seemed to reflect off the face of the glass and shine back down onto hands of the watch. “It’s beautiful Mr. Stark.”

“It was my mother’s,” he said. He was looking down at Peter’s hands, but he was also looking a million miles away. “My father gave it to her as a birthday present once. It was the only birthday present he got her that wasn't an expensive party.”

Tony tore his gaze away from the old watch. He closed the lid on the box he had just opened. “You should wear it, Peter. It’ll let you explore your feminine side without resorting to dangling diamond earrings,” Tony smiled.

Peter laughed and took off his left web shooters to put the watch on. “Thank you for indulging my cross-dressing tendencies.”

“Hey, I was the one who gave you a spandex body suit. I should’ve seen this coming.”

* * *

Their junk food binge caught up to them the next day, when they realized they had no food they could easily cook. Sure they had lettuce for salads (that Captain America had insisted be provided), but no frozen pizzas or tacos or even cereal.

The snow had stopped over night, allowing the crews to finally clear off the roads a little bit. However the main highway out of the town was still shut down due to a massive pile-up, so Peter and Mr. Stark were stuck going to the little grocery store downtown. Peter insisted he could handle getting all the food himself, so Mr. Stark handed him a few hundred dollar bills and told him not to spend it all in one place. Which was silly since the town only had one grocery store.

Peter was walking back to the house, mentally crosschecking the items in the bags on his arms with the items on their list. He was in the middle of recalling if he grabbed both a pepperoni and a meat-lovers pizza when he heard a loud crash of glass. He ducked behind a large bush near the edge of the sidewalk, trying to calm his rapid breathing.

He peeked over the top of the bush. Two men were climbing out of the side window of a blue house. The shorter of the two men looked around before quickly making his way to the van sitting back in the driveway. The taller man followed hot on his heels. They climbed in and slammed their doors shut, but even through closed doors, Peter could still make out what they were saying.

“Another house that doesn’t have it!” the shorter one yelled.

“There are still a couple houses on the street that we haven’t checked yet,” the taller one tried to reason. “We know it’s in this area, we will find it eventually.”

The shorter one slammed his fist on the wheel. “We need to find it now! If we don’t, we will never be able to break the code. We cannot fail!”

He sat back and took a deep breath. The taller one looked on in silence. “What do you want to do?”

Peter narrowed his eyes.

“We keep searching the houses. We’ll do that one tonight.” The shorter one pointed straight past Peter to the brick house across the street.

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”

* * *

While Peter was out shopping for basic groceries to last them over until the highway opened back up, Tony wandered the small town, all decorated in holiday cheer. He found himself approaching the small church just off the town square. When he was little, his mom used to bring him to the church, and she would pray while he sat in the pew, reading the big book left on the hard wooden seat. The book was boring and full of contradictions, so it never held Tony’s attention for very long. But after a little while, his mother would start to sing along with the choir. Her voice was always soft and sweet, unsure sometimes, but never fearful. Tony could listen to his mother sing for hours.

Tony sat down in one of the pews and listened to the children’s choir. He glanced around at the other churchgoers. Most seemed to be parents of the young choir kids, but Tony also saw a few older ladies that might’ve been grandmas. Some of the few people in the church were on their knees praying, other just had their eyes closed, feeling the spirit of the Lord speak to them, Tony supposed.

He looked back up at the choir. They were singing an old Latin carol that was definitely older than any kid up there. _God, they’re all so young and innocent and defenseless_ , Tony thought.

_Just like Peter._

An older man sat down next to Tony, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. “Is yours up there?” the man asked, taking off his hat and nodding to the children singing.

“No, mine’s actually out shopping right now.” Tony answered. There’s a pause before Tony thought to return the question. “You?”

“My granddaughter is. She’s the little redhead there in the third row.” He gestured to a small girl, standing barely a head above the child in the row in front of her. Tony could see the gap in her front teeth from how big her smile was while she sang. The picture of innocence, of hope, and a thought flashed through Tony’s mind. _Was she one of the ones who vanished? Does she know she almost died?_

“She’s precious,” Tony mumbled, mostly because he knew he should respond.

“Ah, no thanks to me. She got all that from my daughter,” he smiled.

“Where is she? Also doing some Christmas shopping?”

“No, she’s actually overseas right now.”

“Business?” Tony asked.

“Army, actually.”

Tony’s heart stopped for a moment. _No, not another army. Not another war to fight._

The man hadn’t noticed the panic paralyzing Tony. Instead he looked lost in his own memories. “She’s been stationed over there for the past few months. We weren’t surprised she couldn’t make it home.”

“You must miss her.”

“Well, not as much as she missed me when I missed the holidays when she was growing up.”

Tony turned his whole attention to the older man sitting peacefully next to him. “You were in the army, too?”

He nodded with a small smile on his face. “28 years.”

“And you let your daughter do the same thing?” Tony asked incredulously.

“It wasn’t my choice. It was hers.”

“But you know how dangerous war is! You know how easily she can get hurt, how easily she could die!”

“She knows that, too. In fact, I would say she knows the dangers of this profession much more acutely than I do. She had to live with my decision to put my life in constant danger. She had to wait at home, wondering if her father would come home. More than once, she got that call saying I was in the hospital, that I might not make it, and she had to live with that fear.

“But if I did my job correctly, I know I prepared her to be more capable than I was starting out. If I’m a good father, I know I’d have taught her to be brave and to be strong. I’d have taught her that people need protecting. And that she has the ability to protect those who can’t protect themselves. I would have made sure she had the knowledge and quick thinking to adapt to any scenario life throws her way. If I was a good father, I would have made sure she always knew how much I loved her and supported her in every choice she made.

“And I know I was a good father, or else she never would’ve left her,” he nodded to his granddaughter still singing brightly, “with me if I wasn’t.”

“We have to believe that our children are more capable than we are, or else we’d never live, so petrified of every monster under the bed they might encounter.”

Tony whispered, “Aren’t you scared?”

The man smiled at him. “Of course. But what kind of father would I be, if I didn’t believe my kid was hundreds of times better than I ever was?”

The man rose from his seat. “And since she’s better than me, I have faith she’ll be okay.”

He pat Tony on the shoulder, “I hope you find that faith. Maybe not in the world, but faith in your son.” The man placed his cap back on his head and moved to the aisle.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Stark,” he called over his shoulder as he made his way to the front of the church.

Tony was left sitting there, alone in the church pew, looking to a little red haired girl singing with a smile on her face, as the last notes echoed across the small chapel.

* * *

Peter had raced home, hoping to find that Tony had already beaten him home. Unfortunately, there was no billionaire genius in sight, so Peter was left pacing the floor, walls, and ceilings in wait.

When Tony finally walked through the front door, he was immediately accosted by a hurricane of limbs and a tornado of questions.

“Oh my god, you’re back! Where have you been? Are you okay? It doesn’t matter – oh my god, we have to do something!”

Tony placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Hey, take a breather, Speedy Gonzalez. What’s got you so riled up?”

Peter took a deep breath. He needed to be calm and collected and explain everything he had heard. He was Spiderman, dammit. He could stay composed.

“When I was walking home from the store, I saw these two guys climbing out of a window of one of the houses. They went into their van and I overheard them talking about how ‘this house doesn’t have it’ and that ‘we’ll have to move on to the next house’. I think they were getting frustrated because one of them slammed his fist and yelled about how they were never going to be able to break the code without ‘it’.” Peter’s voice was rising. “And then I overheard them say they were going to break into our house. Tonight.”

“Peter, are you sure that’s what you heard?” Tony asked.

“Yes! They’re robbing this house tonight.”

“Now, are these your run-of-the-mill home burglars? Or are they professional bank thieves? What level are we dealing with here?”

“Well they didn’t hand me their resumes.” Peter shook his head, trying to remember any identifying details about the two men. “But one of them had a red octopus pin on his jacket.”

"Hydra." Tony let go of Peter and ran his hand through his hair. This was bad, really bad. Peter stepped back, but he didn’t go back to pacing. Instead, he stood there in the foyer, looking at his hands, deep in thought.

“Okay, clearly we need to stop the bad guys!” To Peter it was obvious. Stop HYDRA, save the day, save the world.

To Tony, it was much less obvious. “And how do you suppose we do that, kid? If you didn’t notice, the rest of the plucky Avengers took all of our crime-fighting, world-saving technology with them to the middle of nowhere! Your suit is back in Queens, and I don’t have an arc reactor within 100 miles. All we have is a house full of childhood knick-knacks, a crippled old man with only 3 semi-functioning limbs, and a 16-year-old kid!”

Peter was quiet for a long moment, before Tony could physically see the light bulb go off in the kid’s head. A mischievous smile crawled across Peter’s face.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a BB gun, would you, Mr. Stark?”

…

“Make sure you spray the water on all the steps!”

“Kid, I’m confident I’ve used a hose more than you have.”

“I’ve done a car wash fundraiser for school before, does that count?”

…

“Mr. Stark, is it true that rich people have feathers in their pillows?”

“Yeah, they actually make really comfortable – wait, Peter, not those pillows!”

…

“You want me to put what _where_ , kid _?_ ”

“You may be old, but I’m pretty sure your hearing hasn’t gone yet.”

“Are you sure this will work?”

“Trust me, Mr. Stark. This is going to work.”

* * *

Peter looked down at the watch on his left wrist. It was almost 10pm. The bad guys would be coming at any second. Peter stood by the back door in the kitchen, clutching the toy BB gun close to his chest. “Don’t be scared Spiderman,” he whispered to himself. “This is our house.”

His ears perked up. He could hear voices coming closer to the house. Through the frosted window, Peter could see the shadows of the two men approaching the back door.

The shorter one held out his hand and stopped the taller one. “Remember, Lester,” he said, “there’s a pint-size kid in the house.”

“Yeah, yeah, Barry,” the taller one replied, “try not to kill him.”

The shorter one, Barry, agreed, “We don’t wanna draw any more attention here.”

Inside, Peter gulped. The bad guys knew he was here. Peter glanced at the stairs, grateful for the fact that the men didn’t seem to know about the retired Iron Man positioned upstairs. Hopefully Peter could keep him out sight. Peter took a deep breath and kneeled down in front of the doggy door. _Had Mr. Stark owned a dog? That seems unlikely._ Peter gently pushed the tip of the BB gun through the flap. And the moment Barry reached for the door, Peter pulled the trigger.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Barry dropped to his knees, cradling his battered groin in one hand.

“What? What happened?” Lester hurried to his side.

In between his stream of cursing, Barry growled out, “Get that little punk!”

Lester approached the door and dropped to his knees in front of the doggy door. He pushed his head through the flap and found himself face to face with the barrel of a gun. His face dropped.

And Peter, ever the gentleman, made sure he welcomed the intruder, “Hello!” And then he pulled the trigger.

Lester stumbled back, grasping at the welt forming in the middle of his forehead. “That little jerk is armed!” he snarled.

“That’s it,” Barry stood up. “I’m going around the front, you go down the basement.” He stalked around to the front of the house, anger dulling the pain between his legs. He intended to storm up the steps, break down the front door, grab the little menace and finish the job. But when his foot struck down upon the second step, his plans turned upside down, and Barry flew backwards, landing flat on his back.

“Oww…”

Around the back, Lester stood at the top of the stairs leading to the basement door. But one step for him later, and he too found himself sliding on the slick ice, hitting his ass on every single concrete step.

Lester rolled onto his hands and knees, gripping onto the crowbar he had brought. He hooked the crowbar around the window ledge in the door, and pulled himself up to his feet. Briefly. His feet slid out from under him again, sending him sprawling back to the ground.

He hauled himself back to his feet again. He used his tall frame to brace himself between the narrow walls framing the cellar landing. Lester jammed the crowbar into the doorframe. He shoved it in again, trying to pry the door open. And again, but the third time still wasn’t the charm. Finally Lester tried just turning the handle.

 _Idiot kid, left the door unlocked_ , he though, walking into the dark basement.

Through the light from the open door, Lester could make out a cord hanging from the light bulb. He walked over and yanked on the cord. No light turned on, but a clatter sounded above his head. He looked up just in time to see an iron fall down the laundry shoot right onto his head.

Outside, Barry was finally making progress on climbing up the front steps. He held tightly onto the wrought-iron railing and pulled himself up while his feet slid all over the icy steps. Atop the porch, he stomped over to the door. He glanced in the side windows, making sure no one was lying in wait with another gun. Satisfied, he grabbed the doorknob.

“Ahhh!” Barry bolted off the porch and down into the snow-covered lawn. His right hand was searing in pain. He desperately shoved his hand into the snow. _Ahhh._

He pulled his hand out of the snow. And staring back at him was an ornate letter ‘S’ burned into the palm of his hand.

From behind the front door, Peter jumped up. “Yes!” He ran up the stairs and ducked around the corner. Mr. Stark was sitting on the ground, leaning back against the wall next to him.

“Did it work?” he asked.

“Like a charm,” Peter smiled. “You did a great job icing the steps.”

“Of course I did, kid, look who you’re talking to.”

A bloodcurdling scream suddenly pierced the air. Peter’s smile widened even more. “I think someone found the nail!”

Just then another shriek rang out. Tony smiled back, “And I think the other one found the flame thrower.”

Peter glanced at his right wrist, checking the time on his watch. He stood up and put his hand out to help Tony. “Come on, we should start moving you to the attic while they’re preoccupied.”

The two of them crept to the attic stairs. When they reached the door, Tony turned back to Peter. “I can take it from here. Go, finish them off,” Tony urged.

Peter nodded, ran back to the top of the stairs, and looked over the foyer. The two men below were taking in each other’s disheveled appearances – one covered in feathers, the other with an iron mark etched into his face.

_Perfect._

“I’m up here, you morons! Come and get me!” He scurried over to the banister while the two goons pushed each other out of the way to be the first one up the stairs. As they started up the stairs, Peter sent the paint can soaring off the banister.

Barry ducked the incoming missile, but Lester wasn’t so lucky. The paint can swung and hit him straight in the face. Barry turned around to grab him, but Lester was already falling back down the stairs. “Don’t worry, Lester, I’ll get him.” But no sooner had the words come out of Barry’s mouth, then another paint can swung down and slammed into his head, sending him tumbling down the stairs onto Lester.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he snarled. The two men climbed to their feet and started up the stairs again. They moved quickly, not afraid of any traps. Their intent was clear: they were going to kill Peter.

Peter took off moving down the hall to the attic. He could feel the men getting closer and he ducked under the trip wire crossing the hall. He heard the first man trip on the wire, going down in a string of curses, but the second one jumped over, clearing the wire and the fallen man. Peter leapt for the stairs, but at the last second he was tackled from behind face first into the floor. Peter kicked out behind him, prying himself free inch by inch.

“I got ya now,” he heard Lester snarl behind him.

“Peter!”

Tony was standing at the top of the attic stairs. He was frozen, looking on in shock.

“That’s Tony Stark.” Peter could hear the realization dawning on men behind him. _Shit, shit, shit._ Peter kicked one leg free and heaved started heaving himself up the stairs. But Lester was still holding tightly to his right leg. “Mr. Stark, run!”

“Not without you, Pete,” Tony stated before grabbing the dead plotted plant beside him and throwing it down at the man holding him. And poor Lester, because his face was definitely taking a beating tonight, but luckily the impact was enough to loosen his hold. Peter kicked his leg free and bolted up the stairs.

“Are you okay?” Tony asked trying to slow Peter down as he dragged him to the open window.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Peter pulled the tire swing inside and shoved it towards Tony.

“No, kid you’re going first.”

“No, we aren’t arguing about this. We don’t have time. You have one arm, so you’re going to get in this tire swing and letting me push you across. Now get in!”

Tony took a second longer to look into Peter’s eyes before nodding and climbing into the tire. Peter pushed the swing out the window and watched as it smoothly glided across the rope line to the tree house on the other side of the lawn. Tony crawled out of the swing fine and stood up on the small wooden tree balcony. Peter nodded at him and went to swing his leg out of the window –

Two pairs of hands dragged Peter from behind. He struggled against their grip, but the the hands were tangled around him too tightly. One arm wrapped around his neck, pulling Peter close into a tight headlock. Peter gasped for breath, trying to breathe in any air, when a cold metal cylinder pressed into the side of his head and all the air in his lungs vanished.

“Peter!” Tony screamed.

“Shut up!” The man holding the gun to Peter’s head yelled. The man sounded like Barry, but adrenaline was pumping through Peter’s head and he couldn’t be certain. He pressed the gun tighter into Peter’s temple and Tony immediately fell silent.

“Of course Tony fucking Stark would be here. What a coincidence.” Lester said. He was still holding Peter tight against his chest. Peter clawed at the arm around his throat, but he was so weak, he could barely breathe.

“This is your house, isn’t it, Stark?” Barry yelled. Tony stayed silent. Barry shoved the gun harder against Peter again. “Isn’t it?”

Tony immediately replied, “Yes, yes, it’s my house.”

Barry smiled. “How convenient,” he said, running his hand through Peter’s curls. “You can help us find what we’re looking for.”

“I don’t know what you’re looking for.”

“We’re looking for your father’s key! We know he left a key here to decrypt the notes of all of his experiments. And you’re going to tell us where it is.”

Peter’s eyes went wide and started shaking his head.

Tony was panicked. He had never seen his father’s secret decryption key in his life. Hell, growing up he barely even talked to his father let alone exchanged notes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about or where it is!”

Barry shook his head, “Wrong answer, Stark.” Then he pulled back the gun and whipped Peter across the face with it.

Peter let out a gasp and he could already feel blood starting to spill down his face from the cut on his cheek. Through the window, Peter could see Tony shaking, desperate to come help him. But he was stuck in his stupid childhood tree house, trying to talk down two homicidal maniacs.

Barry pressed the gun back against Peter’s temple. “Either you tell me where the key is or I start shooting the kid. Which one do you want?”

“I want to help you,” Tony pleaded. “Please just let him go. I don’t know where the key is, but fuck it, I’m smarter than my father. Let the kid go and I can come over and help you decrypt my father’s notes myself.”

Barry shook his head. “That wasn’t one of the options.” He pulled back the gun again, but instead of swinging it at Peter, he aimed it downwards.

And he shot Peter in the leg.

Peter screamed out, desperate to just collapse on the ground. But the arm around his neck would let him. Pain seared through his leg and every second he was still standing caused more tendrils of pain to flame up his leg. Peter bit back more screams. Through his sobs, Peter could hear Tony yelling his name. He opened his eyes, yearning to be held in Tony’s arms instead of restrained in these dangerous ones.

“We’re not fucking around, Stark! Tell us where the key is.” Barry whipped Peter around the head again.

“He doesn’t know anything.” Peter spit out blood. He turned and looked Barry straight in the eye. “I do.”

Barry stalked over to him. Peter adjusted his grip on the arm around his neck, placing his left hand over his right wrist. The man grabbed Peter’s jaw. “Really, kid? You know where the key is?”

Up close, Peter could smell the tobacco on the guy's breath and see the gold tooth decorating his sadistic smile.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “It’s right here.”

And Peter pressed down on his watch face. He quickly turned his head out of the man’s grip and dove against the arm holding him up. There was an explosion of white around him. The bodies around him were flown back, and Peter was thrown to the ground.

From across the yard, Tony shouted out, “Peter!” Through the window, he saw the white explosion, heard the screams, and then nothing. All he could see was the wood paneling of the attic. “Peter!” he yelled again. There was still no response.

Tony scrambled down out of the tree house and bolted across the yard. He threw open the nearest window. He raced through the house, completely disregarding any linger traps. His own safety didn’t matter. Only Peter’s did. He had to get to Peter.

As he ascended the stairs, Tony could see Peter sprawled on the floor. He rushed over to Peter and slid down next to him. “Peter, kid, wake up! Wake up!”

Peter’s eyes flutter open, “Did it work?”

Tony looks to the two men, plastered to the attic wall by literal explosion of spider webs. Both men were unconscious, their heads lolling to the side.

“What did you do?”

“So, you know when I said I didn’t have any web fluid left?”

Tony looked at him incredulously. “You lied to me?”

Peter sat up, shaking his head. “Not at the time, but when I setting up the basement, I realized you had a lot of the materials I needed to make them. I didn’t have any of my chem equipment, obviously, so the measurements weren’t exact. But I did my best to make enough so that when I triggered it, the web bomb would completely tie up the bad guys.”

Tony laughed, “Have I ever told you how smart you are?”

Peter smiled. “You could stand to mention it more.”

Peter went to sit up, but gasped out clutching at his leg. Tony eased him back down. “Hey now, deep breaths.” Tony moved Peter’s hands out of the way, uncovering the bullet hole through Peter’s lower leg. Blood was flowing out of the back of Peter’s calf, which meant the bullet had gone through cleanly. Not great for blood loss, but good in terms of not having to dig a bullet out. Peter’s eyes were still clenched tight in pain, but his breathing was steady.

“It looks like the bullet went through, so the first thing we need to do is stop the bleeding. Keep your hands over the hole and press down while I got find some bandages.” Tony stood up.

“Be careful,” Peter called out, “the house is booby-trapped.”

Tony rolled his eyes and continued down the stairs.

He returned a few minutes later, an industrial sized first-aid kit in tow. He set it down next to Peter, who was still lying in the same place. “We’re lucky my dad was a paranoid old man. We have enough medical supplies to cure cancer in here.”

Peter laughed. “I bet. Don’t worry, the bleeding is already slowing down.”

Tony once again moved Peter’s hands aside, and sure enough, the bleeding had slowed down considerably. “Nice work, spider-baby. I’m still going to wrap it though.” Tony carefully bandaged Peter’s calf, working carefully to not jostle it too much. He helped Peter to his feet, supporting half of Peter’s bodyweight. The two started to hobble over to the stairs.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter piped up. “I know it’s late, but I’m really hungry. Can we make some really early breakfast, please?”

“Well between the two of us, we have six working limbs.” Tony smiled down at him. “I think we can make it work.”

* * *

Steve Rogers finally stumbled back through the front door of Tony’s house, the morning light softly illuminating the snow. The mission had been a success, another evil mountain bunker destroyed. And now Steve was ready to sleep for about another seventy years. But he rounded the corner to find a plates breakfast spread out on the kitchen island in front of him. Steve stopped in his tracks, but was quickly shoved out of the way by a pushy Clint Barton exclaiming “Bacon!”

Tony and Peter sat at the counter stools. Their own plates were in front of them, but the two weren’t eating right then. Instead they were just smiling at the superheroes entering the kitchen.

“Welcome back,” Tony drawled. “How was your trip? See any awe-inspiring vistas, go on any life-changing expeditions?”

Steve moved further into the kitchen and sighed. “Peter, Tony, we are so sorry we left you two here. We didn’t mean to at all.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tony stopped him. “Peter and I had a wonderful time breaking in the home here, wouldn’t you say, Pete?” Peter nodded enthusiastically. “In fact,” Tony continued, “we were such great hosts, that we even got you a present, Cap. It’s all tied up and waiting for you in the attic.”

Tony smiled and turned to the rest of the Avengers, who were staring at the billionaire and trying to resist the temptation of homemade pancakes. “And this is our present to the rest of you. Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals!”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! In the spirit of giving, please leave nice comments only :)


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